pursuit of justice

by Subtext January. 15, 2016 846 views

doc “blindeye” mylander wasn't in the mood for jokes. he had ridden through the desert for a week and a day, always two steps behind the man who had become the core of his life.

he was only a deputy sheriff and the godforlorn place he called his home hadn't even coughed up the money to build a decent office with a jail attached, but he was a man who could smell hanky panky from 50 miles upriver. he cursed and spat onto the ground when he walked out of the saloon where he had hoped to, but not found the quack who sold the anti-ageing cream all over the town; causing everyone to look like white spotted, crackling snakes stuck in the middle of skinning. he knew he would find the bastard, one day, somewhere, in a sincere place, and drag his sorry bottom to justice.

not today though. not today.

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